Dead no More
by MortalEnemies1234
Summary: The 48th Century. A rift refugee with no memory except of a man in a coat that he has to get back to. Except they meet out of order, falling in love and being seperated once more in a time when loving a refugee was illegal. Until eventually, he finds his way home to his Jack.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome! This is a plot bunny that just wouldn't leave me. It's cannon for both Children of Earth and Miracle Day, but is a JANTO story I promise. This is a plot bunny that uses a bit of creative liberty, as well as ideas from both audio-plays and the books.**

 **This story is rated T but depending on response there may be some M-rated one shots.**

 **Disclaimer, I don't own Torchwood- I only own this plot bunny.**

 _ **4953- Planet Pithuari,**_

Every bone in his body hurt. It had started as a dull ache, then a fierce burn that made him feel like he was being incinerated slowly from the inside out. He couldn't see anything, a bright light had blinded him and was still scorching his eyeballs.

Eventually, the blinding light cleared, and all he could see was dust. Dust and sand- he realised he was in some kind of desert. There were two bright suns burning in the sky, the only indication he was no longer on Earth.

He stumbled to his feet, dragging himself across the sandy dunes. In the distance, he could see what looked like small huts, and despite the burning heat, the pain and not even knowing if he could communicate with this species, he made his way towards them.

As he neared the village, a woman appeared from one of the huts. She was humanoid, the only indication she was part of an alien race was the small horns protruding from above her hair line. She gasped, said something in a language he didn't understand and disappeared back into the hut.

A man then emerged, his dark skin and thick set features shimmering in the baking sun. He offered some kind of beaker to him, with a strange green liquid inside.

"It'll help with the pain." He explained, in English, with a heavy American accent. "We're used to rift refugees around here." He gestured to the village. "we'll patch you up and then put you on the next shuttle to the city. There's people there that will set you up with your new life."

He accepted the beaker gladly, the liquid hydrating him, and dulling the pain coursing through his bones. Mentions of a rift dragged up strange memories, of running and explosions and darkness- and of a man, a beautiful man.

"My name is Rex by the way- can you remember yours?" the man offered his hand, and he shook it gladly, opening his mouth to speak, his voice feeling strange in his mouth.

"I don't… why don't I know my name?" he panicked, his eyes suddenly darting around this strange new world.

"Don't worry, its normal. A lot of people find their memory gets scrambled. Sometimes it comes back, sometimes it doesn't. don't worry about it." He offered a supporting hand. "for know… what about John?"

He nodded, "John sounds… John sounds good." He smiled, and Rex gently led him inside the small hut. Another memory assaulted him, of saying goodbye to a man and a box…

 **This is just a teaser prologue to see how this story goes down, but review what you think of it so far, and who you think "John" is.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to everyone who kindly reviewed this story- I wasn't sure how well the idea was going to do and I'm still not confident with my writing. I have dyslexia so without spell check or grammar check I get a lot of things wrong, so if you spot an error please let me know in the reviews.**

 **Chapter 1**

He sat quietly on a scratchy cushion in one of the huts, sipping what appeared to be some kind of tea. The humanoid woman sat across from him, kneading a dough. The man, Rex, was tapping away at some kind of holographic screen, filled with a language he couldn't understand.

"John?" Rex called, and he stood up to join him. Rex held some kind of strange gun, about the size and shape of a tattoo gun. "This is a subdermal translator implanter. It fires a nanochip into the base of your skull that then replicates painlessly to the language centre of the brain." Rex moved towards him with the strange gun, and John gently lowered his head to allow the man to press the gun up against his neck.

There was a sharp sting, and a strange kind a tingling sensation as the implant worked its way into his brain. Suddenly the sensation stopped, and he found he could understand the woman, who had been singing in a strange language as she kneaded the dough.

"If you know the language it wont translate, and you'll still have to learn to read. But your employer in the city will teach you everything you need to know. Earth languages, especially English are still widely spoken, but Galactic Standard is the most common. I've put some new clothes out on the bed for you" he gestured vaguely to a pile on top of a blanket. "That suit is non contemporaneous and absolutely filthy. Change, and I'll take you into the city." With that, Rex left, and the woman followed demurely.

John struggled on the soft, light fabrics that made up his new clothing. They were pastel coloured, muted blues and greens. The fabric felt silky against his skin, and glided as he moved.

He stepped out into the baking sunlight of the village, and was surprised that the fabrics stopped the heat penetrating through to his skin. Rex had explained where and more importantly when he was, but he still couldn't truly believe he was in the future. He could remember now that he was from the 21st century, and that he had lived in a place called Cardiff, but he still couldn't remember his name or how old he is.

On the edge of the village was a shiny vehicle (or at least he guessed it was a vehicle) with Rex stood next to it. He gestured that John should join him, and as he approached he noticed that the vehicle was hovering a few inches off the ground, disturbing the sand below it like a gentle breeze.

Rex ascended up a set of stairs and took a seat in the luxurious looking cabin. John looked around nervously, before settling into one of the soft leather seats, behind what appeared to be the drivers seat.

"Enjoy your first hovercar ride, they get as mundane as the morning rush hour in 21st century London." Rex sighed as he settled deeper into his chair. "I'm taking you to Miriam Circana. She's our rift refugee integration expert- shell get you set up with a place to stay and some food to get you started. She also has excess to experimental techniques that may help with your memory problems." Rex pressed a button. "This is Marcogon- Largest city on Pithuari, and the planetary capital. Best place to start a new life."

The city was a shinning sprawl looming on the horizon as the skimmed across the desert. The buildings were taller than any he had ever seen before, rising up out of the sand in an elegant formation of utility. Other hovercars skimmed around them towards the city, and off to his left he could see what appeared to be a train skimming along some kind of tracks, gliding smoothly to the sprawling metropolis.

John looked around him in awe as they pulled into the city. People of all different races, colours, species, humanoid or not, walked and talked and existed on both sides of the road, and it was amazing to see.

Their hover car pulled up alongside one of the taller buildings, and John followed Rex out into the melee. There was a beautifully artistic sign outside the building in what John assumed was Galactic Standard. He really would have to learn to read the language he mused as Rex led him into the building.

They ended up in a large open plan office with floor to ceiling windows, but unlike how he remembered the sunlight flooding into offices before, the light didn't blind him, like the windows were changing it somehow.

A red skinned woman walked into the room, her pointed ears gracefully parting her thick, bright blue hair.

"John, this is Miriam. I need to get back to the village, so I'm going to leave you in her capable care." Rex stood to leave, embraced the woman, and left without even a backwards glance.

"So John." The woman's voice was velvety and seductive, as she leaned forward onto the table beside him, revealing her voluptuous breasts. "My job is to make sure that you, as a rift refugee, pay what you owe to this society for saving you. Refugees have no rights; you don't exist in this timeline. You will do what we require of you because you have no choice. There is no fancy Torchwood institute in this planetary system, so we can do what we like to you. No one will save you. Not Rex, not some rebels. You are nothing more than slave meat in this world do you understand?"

John recoiled, and suddenly the woman lashed out and slammed his face against the glass table. He felt a prick in his shoulder, and then the world went black.

TWTWTWTWTW

When he woke up, he was in a tank. There was some kind of mask over his face, and several wires and tubing leaving his body. He struggled, but he was held fast by a series of thick steel cables wrapped around his limbs and torso.

Suddenly the cables released and he was hauled bodily out of the tank and thrown onto a floor. His body screamed as the air left him, and his mind reeled as memories flooded him. Memories of a man and woman beating him within an inch of his life while an Asian woman escaped. TOSH, his memories provided him with. She was called Tosh. She was his friend.

The memory had lent him something else. His name.

Jones, Ianto Jones.

Cachu… he was killed by aliens known as the 456. And now, somehow, he was alive again.

And for some reason, that terrified him.

 **Let me know what you think about where this is going?**

 **As I've said before, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and followed this story. It means a lot to me.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay-sorry its been so long! I finally finished my university exams for the year and had to go through a lengthy process to find out what they can do with regards to my breakdown this year. I also had a significant car accident that left me with bruises, burns and no car, as well as a minor conviction from the police.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and favourited this story. Your continued support helps drive my writing as it gives me more confidence.**

 **Chapter 2**

He had been at the training yard for what felt like years. According to his teachers, it had been six earth calendar months, or four months by this planets calendar. He had been beaten within an inch of his life for disobedience, whipped until he bled when he spoke without being spoken to, and forced to watch how other slaves _serviced_ their masters. The teachers never called them slaves, although that was what they were. They called them _Companions._

Miriam came to appraise his progress every week. She had carved up his skin with a knife to make him learn to read, and had him drowned in a tank for refusing to serve her that sweet tea that she favoured. She would fetch him from his stable and make him serve, often naked.

He was a wonder to the masters. Whatever they did to him healed. He could go indefinitely underwater. The only thing that remained was the pain and the memories, and the slavers brand tattooed onto his skull. They shaved his head every day so that it would show prominently to those that came to observe him.

The others called him a devil, or a miracle. They resented him for the interest the masters showed in him. A slave they could not easily kill? They were competing to buy him at the end of his training, but Miriam had other plans. She wanted to sell him in an intergalactic slave market. She called him her retirement fund. The others in the stable all agreed, devil or miracle, he did not deserve that fate.

One of the teachers unlocked his stable. He had learnt quickly to present himself to be collared and led out of the stable, or they wouldn't feed or water him that day. Or that week for that matter. The collar was a thick, heavy material similar to leather, with a long metal leash that could easily be whipped across his back, causing excruciating pain.

They dragged him to the centre yard, naked as the day he was born. Miriam stood there, next to a glittering shuttle.

"Do you have his papers?" she asked the teacher, appraising Ianto with a devilish eye.

"Yes Ma'am. He's ready. Of course, he'll have to pass the final test when his first master places his purchase order."

"First master?" Miriam queried, quirking an eyebrow.

"We still aren't sure if he can… die Ma'am… the rift seems to have done something to him. Its noted in his papers. He will potentially outlive his master. Something I'm sure will be very appealing to some. He's also got the correct physiology for augmentation, and his genetic data is incredibly stable. Someone will want him, and pay handsomely for it we are sure."

Ianto had no idea what augmentation was, but the mere mention of it had him trembling with fear. What had the rift done to him? Was he still human anymore? Miriam stroked his brand, which stung still with phantom pain from when they pinned him down and forcibly tattooed it, the needle feeling like it was going deep enough to scrape the very bones of his skull.

It was one of the first things they'd done to him, after they'd removed him from the tank and untangled all the wires. The other trainee slaves told him that he'd been in the tank for a year, fed through a tube, his muscles stimulated to make him appear physically perfect. They'd implanted micro electrodes into his muscles to maintain this tone, and a control circuit in his spine. His trainers had taken great delight in showing him how it worked when he'd nearly managed to escape. They hadn't expected the resurgence of his memories, apparently the liquid Rex had given him was supposed to prevent that.

But they'd slowly began to creep back into his mind.

At night, the only thing that kept the nightmares at bay was remembering the warm weight of Jack's body wrapped around him when they slept together. The predatory twinkle in his bright blue eyes as they fell into bed together. The way he said 'I love you' with his body, because he was so afraid to love and lose him.

But still the nightmares came.

Lisa, throwing him bodily across the Hub when the cyberman took over. The cannibals, beating him bloody. The explosion caused by John Hart. The death of Tosh and Owen. Worrying that Jack wouldn't come back every time he died. And more vividly, the pain and desperation in Jack's voice as he died at the hands of the 456. The unspoken words he wished to hear, and finally did at the House of the Dead, only to be ripped away from Jack by the closure of the rift, and instead of oblivion, all the pain he had suffered since arriving here.

Miriam's voice broke through his thoughts. "Get in." She shoved him into the shuttle, and slammed him against the wall. "If you even fetch half as much credits as I think you will, you will make me a very rich woman." She chuckled evilly. "Some rich bastard who likes pretty things will fight for you I'm sure. And when they win you, you will show your new master all the things you have been taught. I know Es'rind showed you how to please a man or woman of most species properly. And he tells me you were exceptional when tested. He wished to keep you my little money maker, with your talented tongue, and what he suspected was a nice tight arse." She made the gesture Ianto had learnt to mean kneel, and he knelt in front of her, bowing his head at the sight of the remote controlling his control circuit in her hand.

"Why don't you show me what you learnt slave." She spread her legs and dragged him forward by the leash attached to his collar.

 **Poor Ianto! I'm so mean to him but I promise it gets better.**

 **What do you guys think of Rex and what Ianto's going through? I promise the next chapter will be a lot longer!**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN- sorry its taken so long to update, I had another breakdown. We now jump into the future, where the story starts gaining pace. This is only a short chapter, to see if you guys think its worth continuing.**

5038- Time Agency Slave Factory

It had been a very long time since Ianto Jones felt any semblance of freedom. He had lived through centuries, millennia, passing from owner to owner like a toy. He had become used to the factory where slaves went for augmentation. It was owned by the Time Agency, who sold out places on their factory line to private owners. His 7th owner had demanded he have the male pregnancy augmentation before his purchase, and had began a long chain of updates.

Like this one.

He had no idea who had bought him, only that they wanted to overhaul his circulatory system and his respiratory system. In the grand scheme of things adding an extra heart to improve his endurance, a respiratory bypass that triggered gills to form on his neck when submerged and adding a bio-regen module to his brain stem wasn't the worst augmentations he'd been through.

In his long life he had endured early augmentation techniques which had killed him, only for him to reawaken. His immune system had been altered so much that he was practically resistant to any illness in the galaxy. There were days during that time he'd prayed he could die, screaming out for a man with beautiful blue eyes and a coat. He'd long forgotten the mans name.

Looking in the mirror, he couldn't even remember his own face. He'd had the fashionable Dragon augmentation, leading to emerald green skin, a gentle, well proportioned snout with extra sharp teeth, pointed ears, scales and claws. The genetic combination that caused this augmentation had a side affect- shape shifting. So a block for this was added to the control column that snaked up his spinal cord.

"Jones." A stern looking cat-nun from the Sisters of Plenitude stood infront of him. "Your transport has arrived." With that, she huffed and moved on to the next bed.

He pulled himself to his feet, so used to being naked he didn't even care he was wearing any clothes. There were green arrows with his name flowing along the floor of the factory line, and he followed them silently, head bowed.

Being sent on slave retrieval was the worst punishment Johnathon Franklinson could imagine. Sure, he messed up when he got him and his partner stuck in that time loop, but the Time Agency didn't have to send him on a retrieval mission. But according to his handler this slave was important. Apparently the poor bastard was hundreds of years old and had some pretty cool augmentations.

He'd always felt sorry for the slaves he saw- especially the ones bought by the agency as companions. They'd often have huge chunks of their original DNA augmented or have extra bits of tech added, and often died an early death as their bodies degraded and died like early cloned tissue that he'd read about.

Standing in the receiving room of the Time Agency slave factory, Johnathon looked out over the factory floor. Several different slaves of different races littered the narrow medical beds, all waiting to be assigned to specific Agency postings once their augmentation was completed.

Since joining the Agency Johnathon had met several different companions (the Time Agency refused to use the word slave for those they owned to _entertain_ their agents). This was his first experience of seeing them before they had been purchased. He could see a young man wandering across the floor, his features declaring him originally of human stock. Johnathon was too high up to see anything more than his green skin and humanoid bearing, but he assumed that this was the slave he had been assigned to collect.

A short while later, the doors slid open, and in entered the slave he had been sent to collect.

The humanoid was naked, his muscular body on full display. Scales littered down the tops of his arms and sides, whereas his torso was covered in smooth leather like skin. A tail snaked up over his shoulder, itching one of his pointed ears.

Johnathon couldn't imagine how beautiful he must have been human. Because he was breathtaking now. The mans slitted eyes fell on him, before looking towards the floor. His bulky shoulders dropped in submission and his ears dropped.

"I am John Jones. I assume I have been purchased by yourself or your master, _sir._ "

The way he said Sir made Johnathon's spine tingle. "Yeah" he replied, offering his hand to the slave, suddenly feeling awkward.

The slave took it with clawed fingers, and shook firmly.

"I am assuming therefore that you wish to depart immediately." Something about the slave made Johnathon's time sense tingle.

 **So who do we think Johnathon is? Review if you think you know and I'll send you a spoiler ;) Also review if you think this story is worth continuing.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm back! I have been through resits, a car crash, two stressful holidays and preparation for the Cardiff Half Marathon in October. But I'm back.**

 **Present- Ianto Jones**

The slave, John, was silent throughout the trip to the Time Agency head quarters. Johnathon was at loss as to what to do- he had never been affected so much by one of the purchased companions before. Usually they were just there, cooking the agent's food, providing a warm body in b ed. John however, if that was his real name, had enthralled him with his stoic stare out of the window of the transport.

"What do you like to be called?" Johnathon asked, leaning forward on his elbows.

"I don't understand? I have always been called what my masters have designated. I haven't used my own name since I arrived in the future." John nervously scratched his ear with his tail again.

"So you're from the past? How far back? I'm assuming you travelled here by rift?" Johnathon looked excited, his bright blue eyes glinting.

"Yes. Early 21st century if I remember correctly… its been a long time for me. I've moved around the centuries, being passed from master to master. If I could chose a name… I'd go with Jones Sir." He looked at the floor, sadness touching his eyes.

"Jones it is then." He smiled. "you can call me by my real name in private if you want." The slave's ears flicked with curiosity.

"why would you allow that Sir? It is not my place to know your real name."

"I am a slave to the Time Agency… they took my memories, won't allow me to go home to see my family. If they send me to an outpost I must go. I cannot fall in love, cannot marry. The only difference between you and me is I get paid for what I do."

"I didn't know Sir… the only Time Agent's I've ever met have always seen me as a toy… no one has respected me Sir, or offered me their trust. All they have wanted was my service- to have me leashed to their side." Johnathon looked saddened by this.

"My name is Jacques Franklinson. Jac for short." Jones lifted his head up to meet his eyes.

"Jac?" He looked shocked, like memories were sliding across his eyes.

"Did you know someone called that? In the 21st century?" Jac asked, moving from his chair suddenly to sit on the floor across from the slave.

"I… I think so. I think he was called that. They use the bio-regen module to suppress my memories I think… I used to remember his face, not his name. but now I remember his name- Jack. Jack Harkness. I think he was… important somehow to me."

 **Present for Captain Jack Harkness**

Across the Galaxy, Jack Harkness sat in a bar. He wondered about returning to the 21st century, watching Gwen's daughter grow up, helping with the after affects of Miracle day. But he couldn't. He was too caught up in his memories, and somehow returning to the 51st century made him feel even more nostalgic than the time period he had spent so long in.

He knew he wouldn't run into himself in this time period. He was in a completely different region of the galaxy collecting some companion. He remembered it was a punishment for getting himself and John stuck in a time loop. Of course, John was called James back then, and it was him that was called John.

That didn't matter though. What mattered was who he was meeting now. John had left him a message asking him to meet him here. He wanted to apologise apparently. To make amends. Jack wanted to kill him. Losing Ianto had made him hard, unforgiving. He felt like he was losing grip on his humanity, like he was going to split from his body and become something less than human.

The familiar feeling of a vortex manipulator being used nearby made him lift his head. He had bodge fixed his after a woman randomly appeared to him, with its teleport facilities working once more, and returned it to him after Unit 'borrowed' it upon one of his deaths.

That had been the last straw that sent him on the path of fleeing to the future. He was done with Unit and Torchwood and responsibility.

"Hello Jack." John settled down next to him, signalling the bartender for a hyper vodka.

"John." He replied curtly, his hand moving towards his Webley.

"Hey now don't kill me before I've at least had my last drink," John said dryly.

"Fat lot of good rehab was for you." A familiar Welsh accent deadpanned, however it was deeper than Jack remembered, more growly. There was a faint tingle of a memory.

"Oi, just remember who rescued you from that rock. Who took you to have that control column removed. And stole a manipulator for you." John said to someone wearing a hood and clock beside him. Whoever it was looked up, and Jack's eyes met slitted blue ones. Familiar eyes, despite being cat eyes now. Ianto, with Dragon eyes.

"I do remember, although I don't know why you brought me here. Just being near him could get me killed. And I don't particularly fancy going through that again." A claw reached out to snag John's hypervodka. No wonder John had wanted to meet him in the seediest bar he knew. He'd kidnapped a slave. They were the only ones who had the Dragon modification.

"I brought you here, Jones, because you and he finally need to meet in order. So he can take you back to the 21st century and Torchwood so you can be safe." John snatched the glass back from him. "when did you become so difficult?"

"when you kidnapped me and took me on a merry run around the universe." He snorted. "someone has to look after you." He looked at Jack. "so you're the future version of the man I knew. I must say, the coat does suit your ego." A tail whipped up and pulled his hood back, revealing his pointed ears and long, flowing dark hair.

"And I'm assuming that you're the future version of the man I knew. Seeing as he was a free man in the 21st century. Who died."

That comment made the slave look up.

"You knew me in the 21st century? Before I came through the rift? Before that house place?" he leaned onto the bar to get a better look at Jack, his eyes wide with shock. "You're Jack Harkness! I remember you, vaguely. They took my memory of your face but they've been coming back. You knew me before, and Ianto Jones!" his eyes widened with shock.

"Ianto? You're really Ianto?"

"I was… am, who was I? who was I to you?" the mans eyes sparkled with excitement, the way he remembered Ianto's sparkling whenever he surprised him with a date or badly cooked breakfast in bed.

"you were my… lover. I… I couldn't bring myself to commit to you more… I have forever, you were only meant to have one life. I think its my fault you had to endure what you have. I had to say goodbye… so I went to a weak point on the rift, where the dead could come through. I wanted you back so badly you came through totally… and that was never meant to happen. When the rift was closed… it must have taken you. Im sorry, Ianto, I'm so sorry. I should have let you rest in peace- I was selfish. I needed to say something to you, so I brought you back."

Ianto cocked his head. "you regret it? What we have had? What happened to me?" he looked disheartened. And Jack didn't know why.

"Jones, when the trial occurred… they removed you from his memories darling. When he met you in the past- his future, he technically met you for the first time. I think he regrets getting you sent through the rift to become a slave, rather than keeping the dignity of your death."

Ianto's shoulder's dipped.

"So you don't remember what we shared? I thought they just ordered you to another outpost. I didn't know Jacques!" a tear ran from his eye, and he dropped his head.

John motioned to Jack to swap seats. He was reeling from the knowledge that this beautiful, obviously damaged man knew his real name. His ears were laid back, and when he laid a hand on the slaves shoulder he tensed, fear lighting in his eyes.

"Oh Ianto, I may not remember loving you in that time of your life, but I loved you the moment I met you in the 21st century. I was just too afraid of your mortality to tell you."

 **So, I know its been a while, but thank you to everyone who is still following and supporting this story. I've decided to do this split idea, where we have Ianto's present and Jacks present. The Ianto in Jacks present is the future version of the one that stars in the rest of this story "Jones". I felt it important to have distinguishing names for them.**

 **I'd like to know what you think of this structure- I think ill change the time streams chapter by chapter from now on. Also, review with what you think is going to happen! Reviews inspire me to keep trying with my writing, no matter how difficult it can be with my disability.**

 **Vikki**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: sorry it has taken me so long to update this story. A lot has been going on and not all of it nice. Anyways, back to the story…**

The slave reeled, nearly jumping off the seat. "You can't talk like that! If _they_ hear you talk like that they'll kill you this time!" His growly voice reached a terrified hushed peak, and he glanced around the bar, looking ready to bolt.

"Ianto its okay, they can't hurt me like that, I promise" Jack replied, reaching for the slave again. He had to stop thinking of him as a slave, if John was right and his control column had been removed, he was a free man now. But Ianto was now rapidly fiddling with the buttons on his stolen vortex manipulator, obviously intent on fleeing.

John rose, and laid a hand over Ianto's clawed one. "It's alright Jones, they do anything worse to him than what he's already been through. Now how about we go somewhere quieter hmm? So the two of you can fill in the gaps." Ianto canted his head towards John, his eyes trusting. Jack wondered how long the two had travelled together. John looked at least five years older than when he had last seen him, and Ianto's augmentation meant that he couldn't gauge how old he was.

"Okay." His ears visibly relaxed, as did his shoulders. He swung his head back to look at Jack, his eyes still wary. He slid off the stool as John paid the bartender, and Jack found his body automatically following suit. They walked briskly through the dark streets, like wraiths in the shadows. They approached a tall, worn looking building, which exuded an atmosphere that the only people that would reside within it had something to hide.

The automated door slid open achingly slowly, with a dull screeching sound that spoke of how long it had been since anyone have cared for it. John ushered them into the dimly lit entry way, and unlocked a room on the ground floor with his VM. Ianto was suddenly inside the door, without Jack even noticing him moving. There was bedding strewn in two pockets of the room, and a table dominated by a sleek silver chest, one which Jack immediately recognised as time agency issue- his in fact, which had disappeared when they took his memories the second time. He ran his hand over the smooth surface, and the buckles automatically released, revealing the contents.

Pictures of his family, of his mother, father and brother stared back at him. A lone tear tried to break free of his eye, but he refused to let it. And there were so many pictures of the younger him and Ianto, his hair short like it had recently been shaved and Jack's as it was when he was at the agency, spiky with a longer section tied at the base of his neck. Nestled in the fabric there was also a _Cleddyf Bwa_ , a bow that was a sharp as a sword, as well as its matching arrows and braces.

"That's mine." Ianto's words were hard, and Jack withdrew the hand that had been reaching for the deadly weapon.

"Where did you get it?" Jack asked curiously, stepping away from the case towards where Ianto was sat cross-legged in the bedding.

"You." His tone was curt, but he cautiously reached out and patted the spot in front of him. Jack sank gracefully to his knees, and met Ianto's eyes, drowning in the depths of them. Ianto's shaky fingers reached for him, and froze mid-air. "I can show you if you'd like?" he seemed unsure, his eyes clouding with pain and fear. Jack reached and grabbed his hands, revelling in how warm and soft they were. Ianto's gaze wavered at the touch, before he gently leaned his head forward. Jack met him halfway, and their heads pressed together.

And then the most intimate experience of Jack's long life occurred. He entered Ianto's mind.

 _Time Agency Landing Bay…_

 _Jones slowly slid from the transport, head bowed. Jac didn't know what had drawn him into trusting this slave, into wanting to treat him as more than the station his upbringing had told him the slave was. One of the senior agents was waiting, an old fashioned chain leash and leather collar in her hand. Jones bowed his head further, and the agent roughly collared him. The slave didn't even flinch when the woman backhanded him for not bending low enough, merely bent lower. She whispered something in his ear and a small shiver ran through him. She slapped him again._

 _It broke Jac's heart._

 _The leash was suddenly shoved into his hand. "Take him to medical. I want them to check those idiots didn't mess up at the factory. We paid good money for the best companion in the world with all the augmentations, not some half finished product. Never trust a Nun, never trust a cat". With that the agent huffed and flounced off, her entourage in tow._

 _Jac held the leash limply as the slave straightened._

" _You better do as she said" he whispered "she ordered me to go. It'll hurt me if I disobey". His fingers ran over a set of scars Jac hadn't noticed before, that wrapped their way down his spine. At the base was a small receiver module, and Jac realised with horror that they were using prisoner control columns to control slaves. They had been outlawed in the 47_ _th_ _century, and Jac had learnt about them in school. They were barbaric, killing over 25% of the prisoners they had been inserted in, often for minor infractions._

 _He gently led the slave through the corridors, his mind reeling._

Abruptly, Ianto snapped back from Jack with a cry of pain and fear. Jack instinctively reached for him, cradling him in his arms as he shuddered. Jack knew most likely the pain of the shared memories had taken its toll, and he may not have even known his control column was responsible for so many deaths.

Ianto curled against his body, one of his ears pressed to Jack's heart. The steady, soothing beat grounded him, bringing him back into the room and his freedom. Jack didn't even notice the tears rolling down his own face. Suddenly there were soft lips against his, and Jack's eyes snapped open to the very human face of Ianto Jones, kissing him with such gentleness and passion it just made Jack want to cry even more. He slowly moved his head back to look at Ianto full on.

"How?" he asked in wonder, marvelling at the oh so familiar features in front of him. He would take Ianto in any shape or form, but seeing him in his arms, human, made everything seem so real. Ianto blushed.

"The DNA they used for the Dragon modification came from a shapeshifter apparently. They stuck something in the control column that took the ability away, but only after it was shown that the ones they trialled the augmentation in could choose to revert to their original appearance. Doesn't touch any other mods interestingly." John's voice was steady across the room.

"Hurt like hell when they first started testing the adjustments to the column. I'd get stuck between the two when they ordered me to change, and of the course the column didn't like that either" Ianto's voice was broken, and Jack growled at what he had suffered. Ianto's hand gently stroked his face. "You look so old…" His voice trailed off as he stared into Jack's eyes.

Jack pressed his forehead back into Ianto's, and he breathed in his familiar unique scent. "I hate that I don't remember what we shared in my time… and that you don't remember what we shared in yours."

"Show me?" Ianto's voice wavered, but his head pressed firmly against Jack's, opening the mental bond once more.


End file.
